


Doomed?

by Brate



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A "Grave Danger" tag. Nick's thoughts after his rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doomed?

**Author's Note:**

> This is strictly stream of consciousness I had to write it after seeing CSI's season five finale.

"It wasn't about you."

That's what Grissom said after my stalker attacked me. He said it was due to some bullshit about hierarchy of needs. Yeah. Okay. Staring at Nigel Crane through the glass as he ranted, it sure as hell felt like it had been about me. Jane Galloway's posed corpse felt like it had been directed to me. The hole in my ceiling sure seemed personal.

The gun in my face...

And now this. A "random" grab. Any CSI would have sufficed. Any of a dozen or so people.

Yet Walter Gordon got me. I don't know whether to hate Warrick for winning the coin toss, or be thankful because he might not have survived the ordeal. But I _know_ I can despise Fate for making me lose the toss.

I really try to be a good person. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt...not so easy in my profession. I'm sure some people think me naive. But I'm not, not after everything I've seen. Maybe I watched too many westerns as a kid, but I want the Good Guys to come out on top, that's all. 

Then look what happens...I get buried in a coffin.

Fate fucked me again.

This... _this_ is my reward for being good? This is my karma? Torture? Murderers and rapists walk out of court on technicalities. Some would call them "lucky." Me--living well, never purposefully hurtful to anyone...I am definitely the world's unluckiest son of a bitch. 

The best part? My friends and family bear witness to my crowning underground glory. How I must have looked to them. People have come up to me and praised me for my "cool head," but I sure as hell remember panicking and screaming like a five-year-old finding a monster under my bed when I first realized my situation. Then my relief at being rescued so overrode my common sense that I was damn near ready to blow myself and everyone up if it would just get me out of that goddamn box.

It took Gil using my childhood nickname to get through to me for Christ's sake. Pancho. Don't ask me why that got through my panic-ridden brain. Am I ever gonna live _that_ one down? Another thing to add to my list for therapy. Though it's getting to be the _War and Peace_ of lists. 

And the damn trip to the prison. What the hell was I thinking? Relating to a fellow victim? When Sara first told me about Kelly Gordon, I wanted to kill her. I had been through hell, and when she had the opportunity to help, she had done nothing. But the more I thought about it, I understood. Oh, how I fucking understood. My hell lasted a day...hers for three years. Would I still be the same person after _three years_ in hell? That's when I started to forgive her. Started. Even after our talk, it's not complete. I don't know if it ever will be.

Am _I_ the same person after a day in hell?


End file.
